Page 9 of The Scientist
“Millions in grant money.”
My eyes widened with shock. “Holy shit!”
“Yeah. Apparently, he’s this super genius. And young too, only thirty-three. They think he has a shot at winning a Nobel Prize for his research in Alzheimer’s, so I’m sure Benson wants to be able to claim Stanford had a part in it.”
Sarah inclined her head toward Lionel. “Tell me again what the budget for our department was last year.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay, well let’s try and get some food before the other more important departments take all the good shit.”
A few other faculty members from the department came and joined us as we ate the surprisingly good food from the buffet, including Stanley, who we saw Dr. Abel laying into while we were waiting in line. He spent the entirety of the meal looking down at his plate and appearing immensely disgruntled.I pretended not to notice as Sarah and I caught up on each other’s lives over the past ten years with Lionel interjecting to tell some amusing stories of his and Sarah’s time together at Stanford.
About an hour into the evening, Dr. Benson took to the small stage at the front of the room where there was a lone podium with a microphone, and began his introductions.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Dr. Richard Benson, and I’m the president of the university here at Stanford. I want to give a warm welcome to all of our faculty and staff and especially toour newest team members. It is my sincere hope that you find Stanford to be a home away from home and that we can all join together with the common goal of educating future generations of scholars.”
He stood tall with both hands planted firmly on the podium, exuding a calm authority, his eyes sweeping across the crowd as he spoke.
“I’d like to introduce you all to one of our newest faculty members, who we were lucky enough to have join our team this semester. He’s a world-renowned neurobiologist, acclaimed author, and winner of last year’sFellowship of the American Association for the Advancement of Science—Dr. Alexsander Strovinski. I am convinced that this gifted young man will be a tremendous asset to all of us here at Stanford, students and teachers alike.”
Everyone applauded as Dr. Strovinski took the stage. Dr. Benson reached out to shake his hand, pulling him in for a half hug and whispering something in his ear.
“I think Benson’s in love,” Lionel whispered to us.
I knew Lionel said he was young, but I was still surprised to see just how young he actually was. For some reason, in my mind, all scientists looked like Doc Brown fromBack to the Future. But this man had thick brown hair that was so dark, it could have passed for black in the right lighting. He wore a pair of simple, rimless, rectangle glasses, and a perfectly tailored gray suit with no tie.
The entire room grew quiet. Not even the sound of cutlery hitting dinner plates could be heard as he stood at the podium waiting to speak. I was just as intrigued as the rest of the room seemed to be.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Alexsander Strovinski.” He paused, looking out amongst the crowd. “I’m grateful to be here with you all tonightand to have even been offered a position as an instructor here at Stanford, seeing as I’ve never taught a day in my life.”
A soft murmur of laughter echoed throughout the room. Everyone seemed to be sitting up a little straighter, waiting for whatever he was going to say next.
“Despite the shortcomings in my resume, Dr. Benson asked me to say a few words to you all tonight about academia and the pursuit of higher learning. With no experience to draw from, this had me wondering what, if anything, I could bring to the conversation. What I can say is that I’ve studied and done research in the field of neurobiology over the last thirteen years of my life, and in that time, I’ve been able to draw a few steadfast conclusions I’d like to share with you all. So, in that regard, this is my first lesson and you are my first students.”
He looked around, smiling modestly as more hushed laughter filled the room.He had a deep, rich timbre to his voice that commanded attention even though his manner seemed quite reserved.
“Our brains are composed of complex neurotransmitters that propagate electrical signals to neighboring neurons by the thousands, leading to what we know as thought formation. We spend nearly every moment of our lives wrapped in our own thoughts, often held hostage to the nature of those thoughts. They have led to mankind’s greatest achievements as well as our greatest failures as a species. Our thoughts, however, are all we possess at any given moment and are all we really have to offer one another.”
I couldn’t stop my brain from putting him under a microscope and noting each of his mannerisms as he spoke—the subtle tilt to his head, the punctuation of certain words to emphasize a point, the way he brushed a lock of hair away from his brow. He had an effortless grace.
“To me, this idea forms the basis for what our true purpose as educators really is: the realization that there are truths to be known in this life, and the discovery of those truths can have a remarkable impact on society. Whether that impact is good or bad is yet to be determined, because the pursuit of knowledge is a uniquely human endeavor, and we are not without flaws. There must first be a willingness to have your beliefs modified by new evidence and an openness to controversy and self-doubt, which will ultimately lead to enlightenment.”
He paused to look around the room, his eyes scanning the crowd as he moved away from the podium to stand at the center of the stage. The room was so quiet, we could all still hear him perfectly even without the microphone.
“I love science on principle because it is the most durable way of thinking. It transcends any cultural or political boundaries a person may have and does not limit itself to what can currently be proven but asks the question of what can potentially be proven. There is a phenomenon in neuroscience known as the Kanizsa triangle in which three spatially separated fragments give the impression of a bright white triangle.Your brain, when given this image,sees the breaks in the shapes, and if given no further input, will assume there is a figure in front of the lines. What this phenomenon demonstrates is thatwe have the capability to perceive objects that are not really there. Wewantsomethingmore. But it is only with a holistic approach that our brains display aninfiniteability to be creative. Thisability is what sets us apart from all other species, and you merely have to open your eyes to see it.”
He was pacing back and forth across the small stage as he spoke, his movements so relaxed and engaging. There was a fluidity to them that mirrored the ebb and flow of his words, leaving me and the rest of the audience spellbound. Ididn’t even blink, my mind intent on catching every detail.
For a brief moment, we locked eyes, and I felt myself lean forward involuntarily. He froze mid-stride, abandoning his pacing to stand rooted at the center of the stage, his gaze fixed firmly on mine.
His lips moved, carrying on with the speech, but his focus never wavered—every word felt like it was meant for me. But perhaps he was making everyone else in the audience feel the same way.
“The materialization of mankind’s genius is all around us: great feats of engineering, feats of architecture, music, literature… all of which did not come about without the help of those willing to share their thoughts and knowledge with others. It is with this understanding that I will treat my new responsibility as an educator with the utmost care and devotion required of such an important position, as I hope everyone in this room will. A little education and a great amount of kindness is what is required if we are to secure harmony in this life and the lives of those who will come after us. Thank you very much."
He concluded his speech, his eyes lingering on me. Or at least, it felt that way. Though, to be fair, I often had the starring role in my own delusions.
The room fell silent for a few moments after he finished, still and reverent, before bursting into thunderous applause. I watched him blink rapidly, breaking the connection, and shifted his focus to scan the crowd.